


The Nerve Of Some People

by shanepizza (orphan_account)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fear Toxin Bringing Couples Together 2k15, M/M, POV Second Person, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/shanepizza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you know that feel when a street thug disses you and then your supervillain boyfriend gets really mad about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nerve Of Some People

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first semi-decent thing i've written in months, so enjoy!! feel free to comment and tell me how much you liked it, how great i am, how pretty i look today, etc.

You liked to be around him when he did his work. You found it impressive, the amount of focus he would put into it. And although most of it was less than fascinating to observe, you would still watch intently even when he simply scribbled into his notebook. 

Initially, you had worried he wouldn't want you anywhere near his formulas. But the first time you caught a glimpse of his notes you knew that would hardly be a concern. Partially because, well, he loved you and of course he could trust you not to sell out his research, but also because his handwriting was an indecipherable disaster that not even you could figure out. It was still nice to know that he trusted you, though.

He hadn't really thought there was much point to you hanging around him while he worked. Because he had to dedicate all of his focus to not accidentally creating lethal gases that would surely fill his laboratory and kill you both, he wasn't really able to give you much attention. For once in your life, though, you found that didn't really matter. 

(Okay, well, it _did_ matter a little bit, but simply being in his presence was nice enough that it didn't bother you too much. )

He would work and you would just ramble aimlessly about whatever came to mind, and he would occasionally give a nod or hum to let you know he was at least half-listening. And that was good enough for you.

One day though, things were different. You had been leaning against the wall next to his desk as he worked on a new toxin formula, talking about god-knows-what for hours on end. You, being the incredible storyteller you always had been, were putting on quite a show. You eventually came to the topic of all the people in your life who had somehow wronged you, which you recollected with a burning passion and, admittedly, some rather exaggerated hatred. 

At one point, you decided to describe a more recent event, and although it was not especially significant in the grand scheme of your life, you still told it with the same offended and angry nature you would a story about the Dark Knight himself. 

So, with commendable fervor, you told the tale of how some random, idiotic thug had called _you_ a moron! He had been laughing at you for your most recent capture, and had said you shouldn't leave clues everywhere if you didn't want to be caught. 

(Obviously, he had been far more vulgar and notably less concise than in your retelling, but this change had been necessary for the sake of paraphrasing.) 

And oh the _nerve_ of that imbecile! It wasn't as if you actually wanted to be caught! You simply couldn't help it! It really wasn't your fault in the slightest! How dare he? 

But as you went on with your loud justification for your actions and offense at the fool's slander, you noticed something strange. Jonathan had stopped writing. He didn't move, simply held the pencil above the page and stayed very still. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, rolling his pencil between his fingers before he turned in his chair to face you.

"Who said that to you?"

Something in his voice made you choke on your words as you struggled to find a suitable response.

"Well, it's not like I know his name! After all, he was just a common street criminal. I couldn't exactly stop to ask."

He went quiet again for a moment, and you tried to figure out what exactly was going on. He never broke his concentration to ask you questions while he was working. It wasn't like him. 

"What did he look like?"

And there it was again, that hint of something in his voice that made you freeze up. It was barely noticeable, but you knew him very well. You knew when something was off. And if you had been a little more observant of his body language, you would have also noticed that he was gripping his pencil so tightly that it very well could have snapped.

So, you tried to describe your offender as best you could. He had been short but very muscular, tan, and had a shaved head. You recalled that he had some affiliation with Two-Face, but there was really not much else that could be said. It was a rather vague description, but you had done your best given the way the barely suppressed anger in his voice had made your pulse speed up and your head swim.

He considered what you had said for a few seconds, and then rose to his feet suddenly. He grabbed his coat, notebook, and the small vial of toxin he had been working on, shoving them all into his bag.

This was all very confusing for you, but you grabbed your coat as well and followed him out of the small lab.

"Jonathan, what on earth are you doing?"

He looked at you and smirked, and your heart must have been beating a thousand miles per hour when he finally spoke.

"Well I have to test this on _someone_ , don't I?"


End file.
